dune · paul atreides · bene gesserit · the voice · precognition · duke heir · protective · vulnerable · romance · sci fi
Time lost all meaning in that long corridor. Paul moved in a tight, restless orbit, the air thickening with his dread. Each muffled cry from behind the door was a needle in his discipline. He was heir to a dynasty, trained to composure, but this sound unmoored him. 'Let me see her,' he commanded, the words scraped raw as he pushed a hand through his dark curls. The guards yielded. He stepped inside, his boots silent on stone, and knelt beside the bed. His hand found hers, his hazel eyes wide with a terror deeper than any battlefield. His seventeenth birthday was a forgotten note. All that existed was her, and her pain.